The Man in Red
by themackattack90
Summary: The Avengers are losing the Battle for New York, so Nick Fury has to call in for some unorthodox backup.
1. Chapter 1

The Avengers were taking an absolute beating. Black Widow was on the roof of Stark Tower, but low on ammo and with no idea how to close the portal. Iron Man had taken out one of the Chitauri Leviathans but paid a heavy price and was now surrounded and outgunned on the street. Thor had recently been knocked out of the sky by that same Leviathan and was suffering from a stab wound courtesy of Loki. Captain America had just been blown out the window of a bank and he was hurting all over. Hawkeye was down to less than a half dozen arrows, soon to be a sitting duck. The Incredible Hulk was surrounded by more than twenty Chitauri cruisers who were preparing a coordinated attack.

"Director Fury, the Council has made a decision," came a cool female voice.

"I recognize the Council has made a decision, but given that it's a stupid ass decision, I've elected to ignore it."

One of the other council members responded, "Director, you are closer than any of our subs, you scramble that jet -"

"That is the island of Manhattan Councilman! Until I'm certain my team can't hold it, I will not order a nuclear strike against a civilian population."

"If we don't hold it here, we lose everything!", came the reply.

"I send that bird out we already have. I've got one more card to play Councilman. I intend to hold that island."

Nick Fury made his way back to the deck and made straight for an average sized man with salt and pepper hair sitting at a small desk off to the side. Hardly anybody had even noticed he was there.

"Do you what you need to do."

The man in the corner opened the small laptop in front of him. It wasn't a laptop at all, just a small glamour designed to hide the mirror which took the place of the screen. He spoke English, but with an accent that gave away his Swiss nationality.

"Watchmen, connect."

A reflection of his face was moved to the top left corner of the screen/mirror, which had divided itself into four rows of five spaces. Within a few seconds several of the spots were filled with outlines of people with grey hoods concealing their features facing towards him. The rest had connected and were listening, but otherwise engaged, their own mirrors successfully disguised as the face on a wristwatch.

"Overlord, Specter, I need an ETA on the two of you."

"My portkey activates in three minutes," came a muffled reply from the man code named Overlord.

"Closer to ten for me, but I'm en route," came the same muffled reply, this time from Specter.

"Copy, all of you are to maintain your cover and continue assisting in ways that don't break the Statute. Paladin, you are cleared to break the Statute, don't wear the grey."

"I have just the thing. Out."

His connection ended, and one of the others, code named Maverick, spoke up.

"Due respect sir, but I've always believed him to be the weakest member of the team, are you sure-."

He was cut off, "The order is final. Continue as commanded. Watchtower out."

The man turned back to Colonel Fury, "There's no going back from this now. I'll need to inform the higher ups in the ICW so they can get the message to the rest of the witches and wizards in the world that they are still not to break the Statute."

"Why did you tell him not to wear the standard grey uniform?"

"I thought it would help us keep it contained if he wasn't connected to The Watchmen by anybody familiar with magic that might be keeping tabs. We can portray him as one of your group in the media and hopefully non-magicals will think him to be the only one with his ability. Though I'm sure explaining magic to children born to non-magicals will soon be much more interesting."

After a few moments, Colonel Fury finally said, "I'll help smooth it over in any way that I can. Thank you for being willing to help us."

"Don't think me yet, Colonel. This could all be for naught."

The Huntsmen codenamed Maverick, a California born American wizard, scowled before looking over at Voodoo, a female Huntsmen and the only other American in the unit, who is crouching a few feet away but facing the opposite direction.

"I can't believe he's sending in Paladin. That guy's a joke."

"You're wrong," she replies simply.

His ego dictates that he respond, but she cuts him off before he can get started, "I'm a sensor. I can literally feel how powerful a magical object or person is by being in their presence. You register at roughly 4.2 flamels correct?"

"Yeah, usually a little lower, why?

"He registers at 12.1 flamels."

"But the scale only goes 10."

She turns to face him and says simply, "It used to only go to 10. He works harder to not overpower spells than you do to power them." She turns away and casts another wind charm which blows some debris slightly off course and saves a woman and her son huddled down a block away.

Hawkeye reached back to grab another arrow, but there wasn't one. He slashed across the chest of the Chitauri attacker in front of him before giving him a swift kick off the roof. He turned to see a host of cruisers heading his way. He grabbed an arrow lodged in the chest of a nearby Chitauri footsoldier and turned away from them to see if he could find a way out. He took one last look over his shoulder and froze. Out of the corner of his eye he saw somebody dressed in all crimson. The person held a six foot tall black wooden staff in their right hand, they lifted it about a foot off the ground, then smashed it down. A bluish blob flies out of the staff towards the incoming host and right in the middle of them, it explodes. The whole group is blown out of the sky.

The person in red turns towards Hawkeye and takes the arrow out of his hand. It took a few moments for Hawkeye to realize the person wasn't holding the staff anymore, it was just standing upright on its own. With a snap of the wrist, a small, light brown stick appears in the person's hand. A whispered "geminio" confirmed the person to be a man, but more importantly, all of the sudden there were dozens more arrows in front of him. The man in red looked up and for the first time, Hawkeye noticed that he wore a white mask that had two red lines that stretched like tears from the corners of the eyes to the corners of the mouth. Under his crimson robes, he wore a white vest with a black crest over his heart. He had a hood pulled up over of the sides and back of his head."

"These arrows should last you quite awhile. Your Director Fury sent me, please tell the others that I'm friendly."

Hawkeye nodded slowly, "I'll pass it along, but Thor and the Hulk aren't in contact."

"Good enough. Happy hunting."

And with a soft crack, he vanished.

Tony Stark was being overwhelmed, but he could vaguely make out Hawkeye informing them that there was a new friendly who had entered the arena. Tony blasted a few more Chitauri, but the numbers gave them an advantage that he just couldn't overcome. Then there was a flash of silver and the heads rolled off of three of the foot soldiers. There was only a blur of red with flashes of silver as Iron Man's savior pressed his attack. The body count ended up a more than a dozen, but Tony didn't know the exact number. When it was done, the man in red crossed his two swords behind his back in an X and they vanished. He reached down to help Iron Man to his feet. Before Tony could get a word in, another Leviathan appeared and the man disappeared with a soft crack.

Tony was getting prepared to go on the attack again when a large force hit the beast on its left side and traveled right through it, breaking the monster in half. Tony looked up and to his right and on the roof of a nearby building, he saw the man in red again. The man's hands were held out in front of him and he made a pushing motion away, suddenly both pieces of the Leviathan were pushed out into the East River where the promptly sank. When he looked back to the rooftop, the man in red was gone.

More than two dozen cruisers were in on the attack against The Hulk. He couldn't move. There was no break in the attack. Suddenly there was a roar of thunder and the attack stopped. The Hulk saw the last of the lightning dissipate and he could smell the burned flesh of the Chitauri who were on the receiving end of the attack. When the smoke cleared, he saw a figure on the rooftop across the street, dressed in all red. The figure gave a small nod, then vanished. Hulk turned, and began looking for something else to smash.

Thor and Captain America were battling against a group of foot soldiers when Captain America took a hit to the stomach that flattened him. Thor turned to defend his downed ally when a man in red appeared on a car in front of him. The person dropped to a knee and reached into his robe toward a pocket in the vest. He pulled out five knives and threw them straight up into the air. After just a second, they quickly changed directions and made straight for the advancing Chitauri. Five knives were embedded in five eyes and the soldiers all fell.

Thor threw his hammer at the last advancing soldier and ended the threat. He turned to help Captain America to his feet, but the man in red already beat him to it. At that moment the Black Widow spoke through the transmitter.

"I can close it. Can anybody copy? I can shut the portal down."

Before he could respond the man in red cut in, "Hold."

Captain America looked shocked, "These things are still coming!"

"I know," came the calm reply, "Tell Iron Man I need a lift and have him pick me up the landing pad at Stark Tower. It's time to go on offense."

"And how exactly do you plan on getting there?"

"Like this."

And with a soft crack he disappeared. Captain America snuck a peek at Thor, who seemed deep in thought.

Thor looked directly at the Captain, "Trust the seidhr, relay both messages."

And so, he did.

Stark was there just a few seconds after the man in red arrived.

"So, what's the plan."

"I need you to take me up to the opening of the portal. I'll take care of the rest."

"Simple enough." He grabbed the robes at the bottom of the hood and pushed towards the sky. When they got to the opening of the portal, the man had a stick in both hands. One was light brown, the other completely white. With a simple flick of the white wand there was suddenly a thin metal plate, five feet in diameter, floating in the air. Iron Man lower the man on to the plate.

He looked to Iron Man, "Thank you for the assist. You'll want to be quite a bit away from here, tell the one with the scepter to close the portal as soon as the fire stops."

"What fire?"

"Trust me, you'll know." There's a small pause. "Seriously, back far away."

Iron Man does as requested. The man in red points both his wants straight up into the portal. He flexes his arm down to ninety degrees and simultaneously cries out "Ignis Irae!" Flames pour out of both wands and even envelop his entire upper body. He holds it for ninety seconds and the flames of his Fiendfyre attack everything in the atmosphere above him eventually making it to the mothership and destroying it. All the Chitauri on earth immediately collapse. The man in red gets to the point that he literally can't force any more magic out of his body. He is dizzy and woozy but has the presence of mind to snap both wants back into the holsters on his wrists.

Black Widow sees the flames stop and uses the scepter to close the portal. Iron Man notices the man on the silver plate start leaning, then he falls to a knee and finally tumbles off the plate. Tony takes off in pursuit, Fury begins barking in his ear.

"Get there Stark! You have to get there!"

"I'm giving it everything I have Fury, but I'm too far away, I'll never make it."

The deck of the helicarrier is silent except for Fury shouting at Stark. When he hears Stark's assessment, he turns back to the man from earlier.

"Can you do anything to break that fall?"

"With that kind of momentum?" It's only a whisper, "No, no I don't think so."

As the falling man starts to pass between buildings a green blob streaks out across the sky and catches him before falling to the ground. The man quickly opens his laptop.

"Voodoo connect."

"This is Voodoo," comes the reply.

"Get there. Now. Out."

Thor, Captain America, Iron Man, and the Hulk are all standing around the man in red unsure of what to do. Captain kneels down and reaches towards the man to try and find a pulse, but a female voice behind him interrupts him.

"Hold."

A figure steps out of the shadows in a matte grey robe with her hood pulled over her head. Her face is hidden in the shadows.

It's Tony Stark who responds, "And you are?"

"Huntsmen codename Voodoo. I've been ordered to provide medical assistance for our mutual friend." She gestures towards the man in red and begins to step forward, but stops at the tone of Captain America.

"Not another step ma'am. I'll need an ID challenge first." He pauses long enough for Fury to tell him the information over the coms. "Code in, eagle."

"Response, whiskey."

"She's clear, do your work ma'am."

She kneels down, a stick suddenly in her hand and begins to mutter under her breath. After the longest ninety seconds of anybody's life, she looks down to her watch.

"Watchtower connect." When Scherzinger's face pops up on her screen she starts.

"He's in a bad way, wounds to the left shoulder and shin and right side, mostly superficial, but it's a terrible case of exhaustion. He'll probably be out of action for a while. I need to move him." There's a reply, but the magic keeps the Avengers from hearing it. "Roger. Out."

She looks up at the Avengers, and you can hear the emotion in her voice. "He'll live." The second part of her statement was barely more than a whisper.

"Thank God." She took his right hand in both of hers and disappeared with a crack.


	2. Chapter 2

Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Thor Odinson, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, and Clint Barton were all seated around a large table in a sleek looking conference room on the helicarrier. It had been three days since the Battle of New York and the Avengers had gotten nowhere when it came to the identity of the man in red. Fury had only told them that they would get all their answers soon enough. They did learn that somehow the man had managed to save Phil Coulson's life and he was now expected to make a full recovery and Thor was convinced that he was a sorcerer, some of the group thought it plausible, but there was hardly a consensus. The door swung open and in walked Nick Fury followed by Maria Hill, a wheelchair holding Phil Coulson being pushed by Bobbi Morse, and a man none of the Avengers recognized. After they all took a seat, it was Stark who couldn't keep the silence.

"So finally, some answers, but first, what's this guy's codename going to be? Because we just call him the Man in Red, but the media is having a lot of fun. Some are calling him The Red Death, but The Weeping Man is really catching on. You know, because it looked like tears on the mask?"

Nick Fury stared at Tony then ignored him and began speaking, "You have been patient and for that I thank you. It took us a little time to cut through the red tape necessary to have this meeting. My companion, Mr. Marco Scherzinger, will be doing most of the talking. I imagine there will be many questions that he can clear up for you, later you will be introduced to two more people, including…. whatever you guys are calling him now. I'll turn it over to Mr. Scherzinger."

"As you've been informed, my name is Marco Scherzinger. Tell me, what do you know about magic?" None could miss the huge, smug smile on Thor's face.

Scherzinger would spend the next two and a half hours giving them information about the wizarding world, his former role as the Director of Intervention for the ICW and his current role as the leader of The Huntsmen, a group that is made up of nineteen field agents, the best and brightest the entire wizarding world has to offer, and Scherzinger as the administrator. He explained the types of dark witches and wizards they would fight against and the how the Statute of Secrecy played a large role in the delay in getting them the information. Finally there was a small beep from his wristwatch, he turned to Fury who gave him a nod, and finally introduced two of his field agents, who went by the code names Voodoo and Paladin. Both were in matte grey robes with their hoods pulled up concealing their faces. Paladin had an arm around Voodoo's shoulder as she steadied him and helped him walk to the nearest seat, which was occupied by Thor who quickly offered it to them. Voodoo quickly conjured up her own after helping Paladin ease into the seat Thor had vacated, causing eyes to go wide.

After he was seated, Scherzinger then spoke to the group. "Several of you have interacted with Voodoo already, and I'm sure many of you have already figured out that the Man in Red is code named Paladin. I'm sure you'll forgive his physical state, but if not consider how you might feel if you used literally every ounce of energy that your body possessed to the point that it couldn't function anymore. That's the state he was in three days ago."

He turned to his two agents, "I encourage, but do not require you to reveal your identities to the rest of the people in this room. Should they require assistance from us in the future, you two will be providing it."

Voodoo reached out with her right hand and put it on top of Paladin's left. He looked up at her and nodded. He spoke in a voice far too soft to belong to somebody capable of the destruction he rained down upon the Chitauri, "I believe they have a right to know."

And Harry Potter pulled off his hood.

Next to him, Voodoo removed hers as well. She had brown hair, in a pixie cut, with sharp hazel eyes. Her robes had managed to obscure most of the curves, but you could definitely tell that she was a fit, beautiful woman, probably 25 years of age or so.

Naturally, it was Tony who commented, "Well, I'm sure if the Captain knew you looked like that he would have been far nicer to you the other day."

With a small smirk she replied, "I'll never fault somebody who ensures operational security." She gave a small nod to Captain America before continuing with a Cajun accent, "My name is Dixie Pellerin. My family owns a shipping company based in New Orleans, but I spend most of my time in New York or the Caribbean. My specialities are healing magic and curse breaking."

She turned towards Harry and gave him a soft smile. After a moment of hesitation he began to speak.

"My name is Harry Potter. I was raised just outside of London, but I live in Wales now. I guess you would call me an entrepreneur, I inherited far more money than I know what to do with, so I try to invest it in companies and small businesses to help the wizarding world modernize. My specialty, as you have seen, is battle magic."

"Speaking of which," Marco interjected, "that wasn't a quarterstaff that you used during the battle was it?"

"No," Harry replied. "It's a full fledged battle staff." He spoke to the rest of the group, "I know that probably doesn't mean much to you, but it's important that you don't share that information with anybody outside this room."

It was Thor who spoke next, "You wield a battle staff? Have the seidhr really evolved that much in our absence?"

"No," replied Marco with a hint of awe in his voice, "Mr. Potter is sort of a culmination. He has gifts and abilities that I would be wary of anybody else having."

"That sounds rather ominous, especially because even the other guy is wary of you," added Bruce.

Tony quickly cut in, "Don't let him distract you. Personally, I'm fascinated by all of this, why don't you walk us through the arsenal you used against the Chitauri and explain the significance of them?"

"Very well," Harry replied. "First, we have wands. I have enough power to dual wield, so I have a set of wrist holsters that are magically connected. With a thought, the wand I want will snap into my hand."

He snapped one wrist, then the other, and two wands appeared. He placed them both on the table in front of him. He repeated the process a few more times until there were seven wands on the table. "I carry seven with me, at all times."

He gestured to a simple light brown one, "This belonged to my father. It's not a great match for me, but will do in a pinch. It excels at transfiguration."

Next to it was a darker brown one with a helix shaped design at the handle, "This belonged to my mother. It's a fair match and an excellent wand for charms."

Next was a wand with a handle so dark it was almost black, leading to a dark brown wand that got progressively lighter going towards the end, "This is my original wand. As I've grown it's become less of a match, but it still works very well for me, especially when performing defensive magic."

The fourth one had a curved handle and was a swirling mix of white, black, and grey. "The first three wands would be predominantly used for defensive, non-lethal magic, purely magic of the light. This one is grey for a reason. It was crafted specifically for me and is my primary wand capable of wielding magic across the spectrum without prejudice. This and my original wand were the ones I used the most throughout the battle."

"But not for that fire thing at the end," Tony cut in.

"Correct, we'll cover those last." He gestured to an all black wand with a small ridge distinguishing the handle. "This wand originally belonged to Draco Malfoy, a schoolmate of mine. He matched with the wand at eleven, but by the time we were seventeen it found him wanting. After I disarmed him it jumped at the change to change allegiance. I use it the least of all these wands. It favors darker, more destructive magic, and that's something I tend to avoid. Even the spells I used during the battle were more neutral except the fiendfyre at the end."

The sixth wand was a very light shade of brown and looked almost like a bone. "This is the brother wand to my original wand. I won it's allegiance from the Dark Lord Voldemort who I defeated fifteen years ago, when I was seventeen. The wand seems to crave power, which I have in spades, so we make a fairly decent match."

The last want was white, with six small berry shaped points on the wand. Within those berry shaped areas were small black dots on the dimples. "This is the Elder Wand." That statement drew a sharp breath from Marco. "It is considered the most powerful wand in existence. It has been fought over for hundreds of years and many have died trying to claim or trying to hold on to this wand. Many more have died simply because the owner felt like killing them. The last two I used for the fiendfyre curse at the end because they were the best focuses I had for such a destructive spell. Please keep the fact that I possess this wand a secret. If it were to fall into the wrong hands, terrible things could occur."

There was a stunned silence before Harry moved on. He reached into his vest and pulled out a thin knife.

"This is one of a set of thirteen knives created by an ancestor of mine name Monoceros Black. He was one of the greatest assassins in history and nobody even knows his name. He used magic, poisons, and cursed weapons and is responsible for virtually every major assassination in Europe in the first half of the fifteenth century. He killed four Dukes, an Albanian noble, and King James I of Scotland and those are just the high profile non-magicals. This set of knives respond to my will, I just throw them up in the air and they will redirect themselves and seek out their targets. They are cursed so even if they can't hit a perfect kill sport, the target will still be paralyzed within fifteen seconds and dead a minute later."

Harry shakily stood, waving off Dixie's offered assistance, and reached over both his shoulders, two sword pommels appeared in his hands and as he drew them they seemed to phase through their scabbards. He presented the sword in his right hand.

"This is the Sword of Gryffindor, created for and wielded by Godric Gryffindor, a legendary figure in British magical history surpassed only by Merlin. Even a simple cut by this blade is deadly because it has absorbed basilisk venom. I affectionately refer to this blade as The Lion because of the display on the pommel."

"And this," he held out his left hand, "is The Stag." Most of them had already guessed based on the white stag at the bottom of the pommel. "This blade was first wielded by Sir Tristan of King Arthur's round table, of whom I am directly descended. It was forged using dragon fire and never loses its edge. It's also surprisingly lightweight considering its size."

"And for the grand finale." He held out his right hand and the battle staff appeared. "There are three types of staves. The most common is the quarterstaff. It uses three, what we refer to as cores, which come from magical plants and animals. Examples include heartstring from a dragon or tail hair from a unicorn. A wand has one core, a quarterstaff has three. Most people who are eligible to use a quarterstaff decline because there isn't enough difference in the type of magic one is capable of producing to make up for the lack of maneuverability that comes from using one. It's most typically used by older wizards and disguised as a walking cane. The second level of staff is called a warlock's staff. It uses seven cores. Those are rarely used because only a very limited amount of people have the necessary magical power to wield one and it's difficult to complete the quest, for lack of a better word, to make one. Mine is a battle staff. It has twenty-one cores. Nobody in the Americas or Australia has ever wielded one. As far as I can tell, I'm the fourth in Europe. Ever. Asian and African magicals have always been more secretive so it's hard to confirm how many they have had in history. Needless to say, it's exceptionally rare."

It was Fury who asked the first question, "Can you elaborate more about this quest you spoke of?"

"Yes, certainly, it wasn't nearly as hard for me as I was led to believe, but the thing you have to understand about magic is that, while it isn't alive, it is…..sentient. It has wants. And I think it wanted me to have a staff. Personally, I believe it wants me to serve as a protector of sorts for the duration of my life, to put an end to the might makes right mindset that has plagued the wizarding world. Force them to debate ideas based on their merit rather than force through the agenda or whichever faction has the strongest wizard.

"That doesn't really answer your question though. It takes three wandmakers working in conjunction to create a staff. So if you require a quarterstaff, they need no input from you, their own skills will lead them to the proper cores and each will provide one. If one requires a warlock's staff, they would need to find the other four cores and provide them to the wandmakers. I needed to find eighteen. As I was meeting with the chief wandmaker for my staff, the phoenix that provided the tail feather for my personal wand appeared and offered another one. It was as if magic herself was offering me assistance. That I have a staff isn't as big of a secret as I would hope, because I chose to ask friends and mentors if they would be able to help me and many provided me the cores I needed to complete my staff. Dixie provided me a small vial of acromantula venom, for example, to help me get there. Add in some offerings from a few of my own familiars and I had what I needed about five years after I started. At twenty-four, I think I was probably the youngest to ever wield a staff, certainly the youngest to wield a battle staff."

"I think i followed most of that," Phil replied, "but what is a familiar."

This time Harry couldn't help a smile as he looked towards Marco. "Another secret revealed I'm afraid Marco." Marco looked rather confused. "Most wizards only have one familiar, I actually have four. There's Emerson, my crup. A crup is a type of dog that looks similar to a Jack Russell Terrier. I have two birds, a spectacled owl named Artemis and a raven named Dust. Finally, there's Okolo, my boomslang. And I've mastered an ability called infusion, which means that they are all in this room with me right now."

Harry rolled up his sleeves and on one forearm was a snake, the other had a dog. On the outside of each bicep was a bird, a raven and an owl. He closed his eyes and suddenly the raven on his right bicep started moving and a real raven peak appeared. Everybody's eyes were glued on the raven as it seemed to phase out of arm. When the whole raven was standing on his arm, the tattoo had disappeared. Dust gave a quick flap of his wings and descended down to Harry's left hand.

"In a lot of ways, the familiars represent balance. We use owls to deliver mail in the wizarding world, to spread information. Dust is a spy who collects information. Artemis is the one who shares it. Emerson is the one who offers friendship to everyone. Okolo is the one who makes you pay for betraying it."

"Harry, you have to tell them the story of how Emerson got his name. You have to," said Dixie with a smile.

Harry couldn't help a smile himself. "Fair enough. After Voldemort was defeated, his followers still held quite a bit of power in Britain's legislative body because the seats are hereditary. They passed a few laws specifically targeted at me, but were short a few votes needed to pass them. One of the men they recruited to their side was Emerson Smith, who they named Chief Warlock, or leader of the body. He's an out and out idiot, but they were able to ram a few things through before I could gather supporters to defeat the rest of their agenda, which included trying to steal all my money because I inherited it from pureblood families and I'm only a half-blood. What makes a pureblood is up for debate, but it requires you to have only wizards and witches in your family tree for a certain number of generations. My mother was born to two non-magicals, therefore my blood was pure enough and I couldn't be trusted with all this wizarding culture and history and wealth that I inherited. When I was gifted a crup, I thought it would be clever to insult the Chief Warlock by naming pet after him. I didn't realize until a few months later that I was actually insulting the crup."

Everybody shared a small laugh at the story before Dusk made his way back to Harry's bicep and the conversation was continued.

"What kind of wealth are we talking about here?", questioned Tony.

"The equivalent to tens of millions of American dollars in liquid capital, I don't even know how much in property and investments. I inherited the Potter family fortune from my parents and the Black family fortune from my godfather. I've also taken to claiming any other family I possibly can."

There were confused looks across the table.

"A lot of families were killed during the Blood Wars, which were the acts of Voldemort who I mentioned early,from both the dark and light factions. The dark factions, however, lost their seats on the Wizengamot as well. Part of the group of laws they pushed through was to open those old seats up to whoever had the best claim. They assumed that years of marrying purebloods to purebloods would mean they inherited all the seats. But as I said earlier, magic has wants. And she didn't want them to have it. I inherited seven seats on my own between the Potter and Black families, but the first time I tried to inherit a seat I didn't have a great claim to it belonged rightfully to one of my friends who didn't want it. We decided to try an experiment. Magic viewed him as the best claimant, it was his mother's family's seat after all, but it viewed me as second best even though there were a half dozen people with better claims by blood who also made a claim. Neville withdrew his claim and I took the seat. I started claiming every seat I could. I've been investing in innovative new businesses and blocking a lot of discriminatory legislation in the process."

Natasha spoke for the first time with a smile that promised trouble, "Smart, handsome, rich, and powerful, it's a shame I always get there too late."

Dixie replied with a wink and a smirk, "Don't worry, I share," which caused even the unflappable Natasha to do a double take.

"I guess I should start looking for all those extra wives I'm supposed to marry, shouldn't I?," Harry commented casually.

There were shocked looks around the table.

It was Captain America who looked most upset, "I'm sorry if this is forward of me, but polygamy? I find that appalling and truthfully you struck me as a good person and I expected you to hold yourself to a higher moral standard."

"Easy Captain," Fury interjected, "I have a feeling it wasn't his decision."

"You're correct Director. I actually haven't married anybody yet and I'm only involved with Dixie. I've been holding out in protest over one of the laws they passed more than ten years ago. They claimed that every line that was claimed, must be passed on individually. The caveat was that anybody who claimed a line but was already married was grandfathered in and could pass the line on to any child or grandchild they wished upon their death or abdication. Unmarried females who held titles could pass them on to her children individually. Unmarried men had to take a wife for each line. It was targeted specifically at me and Neville, who I mentioned earlier. We had become heroes in the British wizarding world and they wanted people born to non-magical parents like my mother to enter the world and discover that the good guys took part in things they found immoral and disgusting, like the captain said.

"Originally, they capped it at seven wives, which was conveniently the number of titles I claimed through House Black and House Potter. So, with nothing to lose, I started claiming a lot more, including the extra line Neville had the best claim to, and they tried to remove the cap. We beat them and have been arguing it on appeals ever since. I'm not overly concerned with what they want, I figure I'll take my Lady Potter and give my titles to my children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren however I see fit."

He turned towards Natasha, "I've had some run in with spiders in the past, but I have a feeling that with you I'd be in for an altogether new experience."

Dixie was looking at Natasha and trying to keep a straight face, so Harry leaned over and started stage whispering, "Is she looking at me with that sexy little glare right now? Please say yes."

Dixie gave a simple nod and was desperately fighting off a smile. There were amused looks all the way around and Harry turned back to Natasha, whose glare remained, "Ms. Romanoff, you're as cunning as you are deadly, but neither come close to matching your beauty. I'd be delighted to take you out, perhaps for some shawarma, if you're free?"

Natasha's face didn't waver, but her eyes gave away her amusement, "I'll have to check with my boss and see when I'll be working this week, but are you sure you want to risk the bite of the Black Widow?"

"Biting? Are you sure I'm not into that sort of thing?"

"Perhaps you are, but the bite of a Black Widow is deadly."

"For others maybe, but you'll find me immune. Literally."

She narrowed her eyes at him for a few moments and without looking away said, "Director, I'm going to need some time off starting now."

"Hey, wait a minute!", Tony exclaimed, "You guys can't go anywhere until somebody tells me what his code name is!"


End file.
